


Blood and Guts: The Secret History of the Inner Rim Trading Route Wars

by draculard



Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Eli likes it, Humor, M/M, No actual blood or guts involved, Thrawn is a control freak but it's okay, Thrawn is a slut, Top Thrawn, bottom eli, reading lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26333548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: It takes Thrawn forever to finish reading, especially when it's something this dry and analytical.Eli decides to help him speed things up.
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Comments: 13
Kudos: 96





	Blood and Guts: The Secret History of the Inner Rim Trading Route Wars

“Hey, Thrawn?” said Eli, rummaging through the datacards he had stacked on his desk. “I checked a book out of the ship’s library last week, have you seen it?”

Thrawn stuck his head out of the refresher, hands busy unbuttoning his tunic. “ _Blood and Guts: The Secret History of Inner Rim Trading Route Wars_ ,” he said, “by General Faoqfa R’nyssim, yes?”

Eli frowned and abandoned his search. He turned to look at Thrawn. “Yeah, that’s the one. Have you seen it?”

Shrugging out of his tunic, Thrawn crossed the room to his own desk and picked up his datapad. “It’s here,” he said. “I’ve been reading it.”

Eli fought the urge to sigh. He should have known. “You’re always stealing my books,” he complained, gesturing for the datapad.

“Is that an issue?” Thrawn asked. He very pointedly refused to hand the datapad over; instead, he turned and selected a fresh shirt from his locker, smoothing down his wet hair as he pulled it over his head.

“Yes, it’s a problem,” Eli snapped. “It takes you _forever_ to finish a book. How long have you been reading that?”

“A week,” Thrawn said, adjusting his cuffs. He pulled the chair out from his desk and sat down, turning the datapad on to read. “I’ll finish it soon.”

“A week,” Eli repeated. “And what page are you on?”

Thrawn’s eyes flicked down to the page count at the bottom of the screen. “Thirty-three,” he said.

“And what’s your definition of _soon_?” Eli asked. “Next month?”

Thrawn opened his mouth to answer and then hesitated.

“Next year?” Eli guessed.

“It won’t take _that_ long,” Thrawn assured him. Eli rolled his eyes, not at all impressed by this claim, and pulled a chair up next to Thrawn’s desk. The narrow-eyed look of suspicion on Thrawn’s face didn’t escape his notice.

“What are you doing?” Thrawn asked when Eli crossed his arms and rested them on Thrawn’s desk.

“I’m speeding this up a little,” said Eli, extricating one hand so he could twirl a finger through the air. “What have you got highlighted?”

Thrawn watched him a moment longer, then turned reluctantly back to the datapad. “Nothing yet,” he said. 

Eli waited. After two minutes of silent reading, Thrawn swiped his thumb over the screen to highlight a phrase and looked up. He was still, Eli noticed, on page 33.

“What is ‘the ancient Alderaanian style of crenellation’?” Thrawn asked.

Eli sighed through his nose. “Shit. I don’t know.”

Thrawn gave him an unimpressed look. “I thought the purpose of your sitting so close to me was to expedite—”

Eli waved him off impatiently. “Crenellation is what we call the high blockades built on the walls of important buildings and palaces.”

“I know,” said Thrawn, as if that much were patently obvious. He tapped the screen. “That word is underlined, providing a generic definition with pictures when clicked. But how does the Alderannian style differ from the Coruscanti style?”

“I couldn’t even tell you what Coruscanti crenellation looks like,” Eli said honestly.

Thrawn turned to look at him at that, eyebrows raised, and Eli flushed in anticipation of an admonishment for his ignorance. But instead, all Thrawn said was, “And Lysatran crenellation?”

Eli hesitated. After a moment, he grabbed flimsi and a pen from his desk and sketched out one of the decrepit castles he’d seen on Lysatra as a boy. Thrawn leaned close, his shoulder touching Eli’s as he examined the drawing.

“Sharp,” he commented. He traced the battlements with his finger. “Corsucanti crenellation is more blunt, with each crest also spreading out half a meter to each side. Not quite so narrow as this. There are benefits to both designs, of course, but I prefer the Lysatran style.”

He leaned away again, and Eli immediately missed the uncommon level of heat coming through Thrawn’s shirt and leaking into his own. It was all from the shower, he knew. He’d hardly ever touched Thrawn before — and only briefly, each time — but he knew the Chiss normally ran far colder than humans. He knew, too, that Thrawn had a penchant for scorching hot showers that elevated his body temperature probably more than was safe.

In a few minutes, Thrawn would cool down to his normal temperature. Until then, Eli wondered how many times he could get away with leaning into him. He eyed the datapad as Thrawn continued to read. 

Thrawn’s eyes skimmed quickly over the next few paragraphs, giving Eli a false sense of optimism for the future. Then, abruptly, his gaze froze and a frown of concentration crossed his face.

He highlighted the words, “67th Gus Tretan Division” and looked at Eli expectantly.

“Gus Treta is a moon of Corellia,” Eli explained.

“The author seems to expect his readers to know this particular division’s history,” Thrawn murmured, accepting Eli’s information with a slight nod. “Do you know anything about it?”

“Nothing,” Eli said. “Am I supposed to?”

Thrawn didn’t answer. He closed the book and opened a new tab, searching the HoloNet for the 67th GTD. Eli repressed a sigh and tried to contain his impatience while Thrawn skimmed the results.

“This is why the teachers at Royal Imperial hated you, you know,” Eli said.

“I’m familiar with their reasoning,” Thrawn said, keeping his eyes fixed on the results. “The instructors at my first academy had similar complaints.”

Thrawn had, in fact, been banned from asking questions of any kind in their Military History class, Eli remembered. His ignorance of Imperial history and the area in general, combined with his keener-than-usual sense of curiosity, had made that class hell for everyone involved.

He watched as Thrawn read through the 67th GTD’s history, taking more than one detour as he clicked on links to other articles, explaining other historical events he wasn’t familiar with. Eventually, Eli felt compelled to stop him. He grabbed Thrawn’s wrist — once again savoring the heat from his skin — and pulled him away.

“Remember that _I’m_ the one who checked this book out,” he said, “and I would like to read it at some point in time.”

Thrawn hesitated a moment before nodding. “Of course,” he said, pulling his wrist away. He opened the book again and read the next few pages without pause, though it was clear from the twitches of his face that he was suppressing one question after the next. 

He hit page 36 and paused almost at once, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. His eyes flicked to Eli and then away again. His finger hovered over a line in the text only to drop without highlighting it.

“Ask away,” said Eli wearily. 

“I don’t understand this part,” said Thrawn, highlighting a sentence. Eli scooted his chair closer and leaned over to read it, his arm touching Thrawn’s. The heat was starting to fade, he noted with disappointment. He read the highlighted portion, frowned, and read it again.

“From the number of alien children populating their streets,” he read aloud, “I felt inclined to dispute her claim.”

Thrawn nodded but offered no comment.

“What don’t you understand?” asked Eli. “I mean, what specific word?”

Thrawn frowned slightly, shaking his head as he took the datapad back. “It’s not any specific word,” he said. “I believe I am missing something the author intends to imply.”

 _Imply_? Eli craned his neck, reading the paragraph above the highlighted part. 

_The Duros woman assured me her people held no animosity toward Corellians for the war; according to her, the Duros had been ashamed of their men for many decades due to the lack of fighting in which they could prove themselves to be fine warriors and good men. Without war, they were hardly worth marrying. She classified our war as a ‘friendly’ war despite the casualties on both sides; when I expressed my disbelief, she further stressed the Duros women were so ashamed of their men that they refused to even live with them prior to the battle. As such, it was preferable that their husbands had died._

_From the number of alien children populating the streets, I felt inclined to dispute her claim._

“Oh, _Thrawn_ ,” Eli said, leaning back in exasperation. “What don’t you get about that?”

Thrawn turned his head to frown at Eli. “If it’s so obvious to you, then you should explain it,” he said somewhat stiffly. 

“What is there to explain?” Eli asked, genuinely at a loss. He examined the paragraph again and sighed. “Is it the cultural stuff that you don’t get? About the Duros women being ashamed of their men?”

“That part I understand all too well,” said Thrawn, his voice grim. “It is the part about the children which confuses me. Why should the presence of children indicate the Duros woman is lying?”

Eli furrowed his eyebrows. “What, you telling me that Chiss like to sleep around?”

Thrawn turned to look at him. His face was utterly blank.

“Sleep around?” he asked.

Oh, Eli had walked right into that one. He pulled the datapad back with a grimace and read the paragraph for a third time.

“In this side of the galaxy, at least when this book was written, adults who lived with each other were generally assumed to be … romantically attached,” he explained. “And if one of them is a man and one is a woman, then presumably, they’ll be having sex, and they’re gonna have children eventually. You get it now?”

“No,” said Thrawn at once. “Explain further.”

Flummoxed, Eli tried to think of anything that was left to explain. Luckily, Thrawn was there to help him out.

“What is _sex_?” Thrawn asked.

Oh, actually, that wasn’t helpful at all. Eli stared at the datapad, his mind whirring and his cheeks turning an unhealthy shade of scarlet.

“Uh…” he said. “ _Acinsu_.”

Thrawn’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?” he said. “And you think this is limited to men and women?”

If possible, Eli blushed even harder. “Uh, I guess not,” he said, pretending not to have much knowledge on that side of things. Of course, because Thrawn was Thrawn, he noticed every minute twitch of expression crossing Eli’s face and interpreted them at once.

“You are … untouched?” he asked. “ _Ontimbi_?”

“A virgin,” Eli corrected before he could process the words and blush even harder. “And no, thank you very much. I’m not.”

“Yet the subject embarrasses you,” Thrawn noted, his eyes shifting down Eli’s body — no doubt cataloguing the areas where heat was suddenly flourishing. “That implies a lack of experience,” Thrawn said.

“What, and you have tons of experience?” Eli scoffed.

Thrawn eyed him a moment before turning back to the datapad. “I didn’t when I was your age,” he said, “if that comforts you.”

Somehow, it didn’t. Somehow, it did the _opposite_ of comfort Eli. He studied Thrawn warily, wondering not for the first time how much older he was … and how much more experienced.

“It seems to me like a flaw in the general’s logic,” Thrawn said, returning to the subject at hand as if he hadn’t completely derailed Eli’s world by talking about sex. “I see no reason why the Duros men and women couldn’t have intercourse or reproduce without living together.” He shrugged slightly, a line appearing between his eyebrows. “ _I_ do it all the time.”

“Well, it’s probably a cultural…” said Eli. His brain caught up with Thrawn’s words. “...thing,” he finished, suddenly feeling numb. “What? What did you say?”

Thrawn didn’t so much as glance his way. “I said I have sex without living with the other party _all the time,_ ” he repeated. “In fact, so far, the only person on this ship I _haven’t_ slept with is the one I live with — and I do use protection, of course. Frankly, I am not surprised to see such a flaw in the general’s logic. It’s emblematic of his thought process; from the failure at Corulag which led to his death and the destruction of his fleet, it only follows that he—”

“Go back,” said Eli, waving a hand to cut Thrawn off. “You said you’ve slept with _everybody on this ship?_ And you expect me to _believe_ that? That _you_ sleep around?”

Thrawn glanced at him, eyebrows raised. He looked down at his own body and said, “I don’t see why not. Aside from you, most humans seem to find me attractive.”

“Who finds you attractive?” Eli demanded. “You don’t even have any friends, who could you possibly be sleeping with?”

“You don’t need to be _friends_ with someone to sleep with them,” said Thrawn. “In fact, most would say it’s preferable—”

“Most people absolutely would _not_ ,” Eli protested. And then, blushing only a little, he said, “And I don’t find you unattractive, Thrawn. Where’d you get that idea?”

Thrawn gave him a dry, almost patronizing look. “Well, we haven’t slept together yet,” he said, as if it were that simple. “I assumed that if you were interested, you would have said so. Everyone else did.” 

He turned back to his datapad, apparently disinterested in Eli’s reaction to those words. And oh boy, what a reaction it was. Eli sat in the chair, his entire body tingling with — with mortification, with excitement, with so much nervousness that he thought he might throw up. Thrawn … maybe he hadn’t meant to imply this, but … ignoring the fact that apparently he was the only one on this ship who _hadn’t_ slept with his roommate, Thrawn had just said he would sleep with Eli, right? So long as he was asked?

 _Was_ that the implication or wasn’t it? Eli eyed Thrawn, his face hot, his heart jumping in his throat.

“Uh, Thrawn?” he asked, his voice coming out as an embarrassing squeak.

“Right now?” Thrawn asked, not looking up.

Eli’s face cooled at once as embarrassment turned into irritation. 

“Not that I’m opposed,” Thrawn added quickly, clicking a button on the side of the datapad to turn it off. He turned to face Eli, eyes scanning up and down his body. “It’s just that I was under the impression you wanted me to finish this book as soon as possible.” His eyes bored into Eli’s almost challengingly. “Without interruption,” he said.

Eli swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced at the datapad and its darkened screen. “You can take breaks, though,” he offered weakly. He crossed his fingers, hoping that Thrawn’s apparently-well-hidden sluttiness would overwhelm his desire to be passive-aggressive.

“Evidently,” said Thrawn. And with a sigh, he stood up, leaving his datapad on his desk and getting to work on the buttons of his shirt. Eli pulled back, startled by the sudden change — but he adapted quickly, pushing off his chair and onto Thrawn’s bed. He struggled with his uniform pants, the sealing strip slipping out of his grasp every time he tried to tug it down.

He was stopped by Thrawn’s hand on his and Thrawn’s lips on his neck. Distracted, Eli allowed his hand to be pinned against the mattress; he spread his legs and felt Thrawn’s fingers on the sealing strip, tugging it down with ease. Thrawn’s tongue found his pulse point, his teeth nipping at Eli’s neck, just straddling the line between pain and pleasure.

“Fast or slow?” Thrawn murmured, his breath warming Eli’s neck.

“Fast,” Eli gasped. He tilted his hips up, giving Thrawn the space he needed to tug Eli’s trousers and underwear down. Eli was already hard, his cock flush against his stomach; he felt Thrawn’s cold palms ghost over his skin and flinched, back arching, unsure whether he wanted more or less of _that_ sensation. It was like someone had run a cube of ice over his cock, leaving a trail of aching tension everywhere Thrawn touched.

“Don’t worry,” Thrawn said brusquely, now working on Eli’s shirt. “I’ll warm up.”

 _Blessing or curse?_ Eli wondered. He grabbed Thrawn’s hips, pulling him closer — until their cocks were pressed against each other and the hard planes of Thrawn’s stomach were resting on his own. The friction was delicious, the difference in temperature almost unbearable. He bit his lip and reached between them, grabbing Thrawn’s cock and squeezing hard — feeling his way up the long, thick shaft to the head and brushing his thumb over the slit. He waited, expecting to hear a gasp, to feel Thrawn thrust into his hand, but instead Thrawn’s fingers closed around his wrist in a tight grip and pinned it to the mattress above his head again.

“No,” Thrawn said, the full weight of command in his voice.

“No?” Eli repeated in disbelief. Thrawn leaned close, until all Eli could see was the red glow of his eyes. He felt Thrawn’s lips hovering over his, his breath making the bitten areas of Eli’s lips sting. 

“If I want you to touch me, I’ll tell you,” Thrawn whispered, his voice a low hum. Eli’s eyes widened; he stared up at Thrawn, studying his face, hoping Thrawn couldn’t see the thrill that went through him when he heard that tone of command.

“Okay,” he breathed, but Thrawn’s kiss — sudden and all-consuming and hot — stole the word away. Eli squirmed against the mattress, careful not to buck his hips or bring himself into further off-limits contact with Thrawn. Thrawn pulled back a moment later, one hand on Eli’s chest to hold him down, his thumb brushing over Eli’s nipple. He lifted his other hand to Eli’s mouth.

“Suck,” he ordered. 

Eli took Thrawn’s first two fingers in his mouth, laving them with his tongue. He felt the touch against his nipple turn into a pinch, and just as he twitched in response, Thrawn pulled away, leaving his fingers in Eli’s mouth as he moved down on his body. His tongue found Eli’s nipple, hot and wet and agonizingly good and—

_Hot??_

“Thrawn—” Eli gasped, and Thrawn silenced him, hooking his fingers against Eli’s tongue.

“I told you I’d warm up,” he said. He pulled his fingers out of Eli’s mouth and held them up to his own lips, his tongue pressing against his own skin, tasting Eli’s saliva. Eli watched him, eyes wide and chest heaving; he was still processing the sight — still enjoying it — when Thrawn slipped his hand between Eli’s legs and brushed against his hole. 

Eli’s eyes squeezed shut, a groan wrenching its way out of his throat as Thrawn slipped one finger inside. He felt it crook inside him, stretching his walls for a moment before Thrawn’s second finger joined it almost at once.

 _Don’t move,_ Eli told himself, gritting his teeth. _He doesn’t want you to move._

But it was almost impossible not to — it felt too good to sit still. Slowly, tentatively, Eli started rocking his hips, moving only a millimeter at a time. He wasn’t surprised when Thrawn stopped him with one broad, warm hand on Eli’s thigh.

He was surprised when Thrawn took his fingers out and lined up his cock.

“That’s it?” Eli asked, his head whipping up. Thrawn glanced at him only briefly.

“Do you need more preparation?” he asked steadily, his voice impossible to read. Eli bit his lip; certainly he’d never had so little preparation before — not with someone as large as Thrawn — but—

Thrawn pressed closer, the head of his cock brushing against Eli’s entrance. Eli’s eyes widened as he processed what he was feeling down there; he spread his legs wider and glanced down, saw the clear lubricant lending a sheen to Thrawn’s cock. 

“Is that … is that natural?” he asked, his voice coming out breathless. Thrawn’s free hand came down on his chest, simultaneously pushing Eli back against the mattress and stroking his nipple.

“You ask too many questions,” he said.

“ _I_ ask too many—?!”

Without warning, Thrawn braced himself against the bed frame and pushed inside. Eli’s response ended in a keening moan, his head thrown back against the sheets, each cord on his neck standing out. Thrawn held still, giving him time to adjust to the feeling — to the enormous cock thrust deep inside him, stretching him out unlike anything he’d ever felt before, touching him in so many different places that he could barely handle it.

“Thrawn—” he bit out.

“Ready?” Thrawn asked him. 

“Hngh.” Eli didn’t have the time or presence of mind to dwell on how embarrassing it was to say ‘hngh’ during sex. He shifted his hips, but that didn’t help at all — it just meant that Thrawn’s cock shifted inside of him, lighting up nerves in places that hadn’t responded before, until Eli was squirming and moaning just from the feeling of Thrawn resting motionless inside him.

“Ready?” Thrawn asked again, more crisply this time.

With a whimper, Eli nodded. 

Thrawn pulled back slightly, giving Eli an inch or two of relief before he thrust back in with so much force that it rocked Eli back against the bed. He felt the sheets wrinkle beneath him, pulled off the corners of the mattress from the force of that single thrust. Eli moaned — couldn’t help but moan — and was so caught up in the pleasure and pain of being entered by someone so large that he almost didn’t notice Thrawn pulling back until he thrust again.

And again.

And again. 

He bent forward, his hands on Eli’s hips, his lips finding Eli’s nipples again and sucking, biting — kissing his way up to Eli’s neck as he thrust. It was too much, Eli thought; maybe he should have plead ignorance, pretended to be less experienced so Thrawn would go easy on him, because this was—

—this friction was—

—this _angle_ _—_

“ _Thrawn_ ,” Eli gasped. It came out almost accusatory as Thrawn changed his angle, bending Eli’s legs up to his shoulders and thrusting in again. This time, his cock brushed up against Eli’s prostate — something his other partners had definitely never achieved — and sent a bolt of lightning through every limb, electrifying Eli’s nerves, setting his blood singing. He melted against the mattress, suddenly too weak to help Thrawn in the slightest, to meet his thrusts in turn.

Thrawn thrust in again, hitting that sweet spot once again — and then a third time — striking at it relentlessly, like this was a battle and Eli was the enemy force. Not that he cared in the slightest how Thrawn treated him, so long as he—

Eli’s thoughts stuttered. He felt something building inside him, his thighs trembling, his breaths coming out high-pitched and embarrassingly loud. He felt heat building between his legs, spurred on by friction and movement and the same heat coming off Thrawn.

And then Thrawn hit his prostate again, thrusting deeper than he ever had before, and Eli…

...Eli may or may not have actually blacked out. Later, he wouldn’t be sure. When he came to his senses, Thrawn was already climbing off him, his cock still half-hard as he reached for the box of tissues on Eli’s desk and started cleaning himself off.

He did the same for Eli, his touch gentle, his face soft but otherwise impossible to read. Eli didn’t move — _couldn’t_ move. He melted into the mattress and stared at the ceiling, eyes slipping closed, breath coming fast as he came down from what might have been the best high of his life.

He felt a flicker of surprise when Thrawn lay next to him, but couldn’t say he was displeased. Cuddling. That sounded nice right now. Yeah, he could totally deal with cuddling. He felt heat radiating from Thrawn’s skin wherever they touched, their sweat mingling together, and he couldn’t seem to wipe the elated, sleepy, sex-crazed smile off his face.

Until, of course, Thrawn leaned over and grabbed his datapad off the desk, holding it over his head to read. There was a moment of silence — thirty seconds, no more — before Thrawn frowned and highlighted something in the text. He turned to face Eli, who huffed out a sigh and studiously looked away.

“What’s a Yerob bishop?” Thrawn asked. “Some sort of religious figure? It says here he wears red robes and an embroidered surplice — and a surplice is...?”

Eli pulled the pillow out from beneath his head and pressed it to his face to muffle a groan.


End file.
